


Monster In My Head

by Mrs King of Hell (Slytherkins), PrincessMisery86



Series: The Secrets We Keep [4]
Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Confessions, Demon Deals, F/M, Fluff, Post-Betrayal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 22:53:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21381928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherkins/pseuds/Mrs%20King%20of%20Hell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessMisery86/pseuds/PrincessMisery86
Summary: In the aftermath of Erin’s revelation, the Winchesters have to decide whether she can be forgiven or not, but first they need to save her from Crowley’s clutches.Warnings: angst (do we expect anything else at this point?), language, a smidge of fluff.Song & Artist: The Monster - Eminem ft. Rihanna.Notes: Part 4 of Sam & Erin series.Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Crowley, OFC.Pairing: Sam x OFC.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Secrets We Keep [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518842
Kudos: 3
Collections: Princess Misery A-Z Song Fic Challenge





	Monster In My Head

**Author's Note:**

> Hey and welcome! So to make long story short, I have progressive hearing loss in my left ear (I have lost 80% of my hearing so far.) Docs say my right ear will also start to deteriorate, there’s no explanation for it and it’s irreversible. I’m not looking for sympathy, it is what it is. But it does mean I have been listening to a shit ton of music lately, every chance I get, which is sparking inspiration for fics. So I’ve set myself a challenge (thanks for the idea @negans-lucille-tblr and @firefly-in-darkness) to write a fic based on a song for every letter of the alphabet.  
Notes:  
I have a few ideas already but don’t have any set completion date, I will write and post as they come to me.  
Fics will more than likely be for Supernatural or Jensen/Jared but will make sure to label accordingly.  
There’s no specific music genre - I listen to everything, rock, pop, hip hop, r’n’b, rap, dance, metal, house, garage, I will listen to anything if I like it.  
Welcome to send me some ideas.  
It may be a whole song that I take inspiration from or just a certain line or lines. Lyrics will be in each post.  
Posting to Tumblr too - @PrincessMisery666

##  ** Monster In My Head**

_“Six months,” Crowley countered leaving no margin for protest, “I’ll arrange for you to meet them, and for them to reveal the truth to you about what they do, but the rest is on you. Six months, poppet, or all bets are off.” _

After she finished, the silence stretched, tense and breathless. Pain and betrayal and remorse seemed to waft through the air like a poisoned fog. Dean’s mind was a jumble of contrary thoughts, but he held his tongue and watched Sam closely. The muscles rippled across his brother’s jaw as he seemed to literally chew on his own contemplation. Erin’s eyes were locked on the polished floor, and her chest heaved, though she didn’t otherwise move. Dean could see she was attempting to suppress the tears that collected in the corners of her eyes; tears of relief, maybe, now that the secret was out, or of fear of what he would do. 

“I know sorry doesn’t even begin to…” she began, but her small and anguished voice broke. She took a deep breath and tried again. “I know it isn’t enough, but it’s all I have. I’m so sorry,” she managed, her tears finally cascading down.

Dean waited a breath to give Sam the opportunity to respond first, but his brother was lost in thought. Dean ran a hand down his face and cleared his throat. He was careful to keep his tone even, though his voice was tight when he asked, “What did you tell him?” 

Erin closed her eyes and drew a steadying breath. “At first, everything.” The confession was laced with grief and guilt. “Where you were when you left the bunker on hunts. What you were hunting. How it went. I told him where the bunker was. I told him about Jody,” she said, pain pinching her expression to think she might have endangered the sheriff and her girls. 

Dean had already suspected as much, but his glare hadn’t faltered. He listened, waiting for the really damning admission he was almost sure would come, the smoking gun that would justify the anger he was keeping at bay but barely. 

“Then, when…” She hesitated, her eyes going to Sam who seemed to refuse to look at her, seemed unable. “When I started to fall for Sam, I tried to leave.” 

Now, Sam’s eyes flew to hers, his brow creased and angry. 

“I didn’t want anything to hurt you,” she explained as if willing him to understand. “I didn’t want to be the reason you were hurt, so I packed my bags while you were on a long hunt and I tried to run, but Crowley, he…” Erin’s eyes squeezed shut as if attempting to block out the memory. “He caught me. He showed up demanding a report just as I was leaving. I never knew when to expect him, he was always just suddenly _there_ sometimes when I’d leave the bunker. He asked where I was going and I told him. I told him I couldn’t do it anymore. He didn’t say anything, really, he just nodded and took my arm and…and he showed me Hell.” 

The memory she’d tried to banish before apparently returned and would not be ignored, and Erin needed a moment to wrestle with it. Dean knew exactly what she was seeing, what she was remembering. He was intimately familiar with that horror and was silent while she bested it so she could continue. 

“‘You don’t have to stay,’ he told me. ‘But if you break our arrangement, this is what you have to look forward to in a few years time.’ And I’m sorry, Sam, I was just so scared,” she sobbed. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave.”

The brothers shared a look but didn’t interrupt. Something about the whole thing didn’t sit right with Dean. He couldn’t put his finger on it just yet, though. 

“So I stayed, but I tried to tell him as little as possible. Sometimes, I’d even lie about where you were. I was terrified that he’d realize and revert to our original contract, but he never seemed to notice. And then, he came around less and less. I wouldn’t hear from him for months at a time, and I could almost forget that I was even in a deal. It was just us, you and me and Dean, and we were so happy. I hadn’t heard from Crowley for over a year, and I let myself pretend that this was all real and would be okay, until…”

“Until I proposed,” said Sam.

Erin nodded. “I’m sorry for running, but I panicked. It felt like the deception had just gone too far, and I couldn’t ignore what I’d done anymore. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t let you give yourself so…so completely to a _lie_.”

“What lie?” Dean asked, and Erin’s brow scrunched and she shook her head, confused. “Did you lie to my brother when you told him you loved him?”

“No!” she averred. 

“So, you lied about being happy.”

Again, Erin shook her head furiously. 

“You didn’t want to live here, then, didn’t want to be a part of our family. The scars you have from hunting with us, you didn’t want to, were forced to help. That’s what you lied about.”

Erin was beside herself, frantic in her denial, and Dean heaved a deep breath and raked a hand down his face. She really couldn’t see what had happened, what was really going on. 

Dean shared a look with Sam who gave a mirthless laugh and nodded for Dean to continue. 

“Okay, tell me one more time, just so I understand. What did you tell Crowley?”

“Wh-where you were on hunts,” she began, and Dean interrupted. 

“You realize I’ve been driving the same car since I was sixteen, and it ain’t exactly inconspicuous.” 

Erin didn’t seem to understand his point. “I…told him where the bunker was,” she argued, as if to convince them of her unforgivable sins. 

“He’s been a guest,” Dean told her. “What else you got?”

“I told him about Jody,” she said, tearing up again, “that you were close, that she was important to you.”

“Oh, yeah. He’d played that card already. Took her on a blind date, actually. Almost killed her to get us to cave and give him something he wanted. But I doubt he needed you tell him we were close, she features pretty heavily in a certain series of ‘novels’, and I’m sure that dickbag has a box set.”

Erin stared at Dean, still not catching on. “I don’t understand, what are you saying?” 

“He’s saying, information wasn’t what Crowley was after,” Sam offered, his voice gentle even though his expression was still incensed. But then, like Dean, he wasn’t angry at Erin. At least, not anymore. 

“Stand up,” Dean told her. The command had been almost as hard as the set of his brow. Erin looked up at him with wide, sad eyes, but after a shaky breath she nodded, rising unsteadily to her feet. Her expression was resigned. She didn’t flinch when Dean stepped toward her.

It wasn’t until Dean wrapped her in the rib-cracking hug he’d been aching to deliver for days that she allowed herself to react. Erin gasped, then when it was clear Dean wasn’t about to release her any time soon, she lifted her arms to return the embrace, but hesitantly, as if afraid one false move would derail this hopeful but unexpected turn of events. 

“Damn it, E. How can someone so smart be such an idiot?” Dean growled into her hair. 

She momentarily allowed herself to relax in his embrace, until Sam’s clipped tone interrupted the moment, “How could you do that?”

Dean let her go. Sam had decided on which emotion had won the battle for control, and Dean needed to let Sam do his thing. 

Erin frowned as she turned her attention from Dean to Sam’s furious glare. “Sam, I’d made a deal, I didn’t have a-”

“I don’t mean the deal, Erin!” he spat through clenched teeth. “I meant how could you try to leave? How could you run? How dare you tell us the truth when your soul is at stake!”

“Sam, I…”

Sam spoke over her, looking urgently to his brother, “Dean, we have to do something. The cat’s out of the bag, he won’t wait long.”

“I know.”

“What are you two talking about?” asked Erin.

“Crowley didn’t want you to feed him info, sweetheart, he wanted leverage,” Dean explained, pausing only for a moment to allow the revelation to sink in before elaborating. “If we care about you, and he as good as owns you, he as good as owns us, alright? He was keeping you in his back pocket for a rainy day, and we got a feeling it’s about to start pouring.” 

“He doesn’t know she’s told us anything. He just knows she ran,” Sam pointed out. 

“Yeah, and that she was caught and we brought her home.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. He might suspect, but he won’t be sure. He’ll want to find out, though,” said Sam. 

“And he’ll probably be watching us like a hawk,” agreed Dean. “Jody, too, most likely. Can’t set a trap while the mice are looking.” 

“So we call someone else,” Sam shrugged. “He can’t watch every hunter we know. We call in a favor or two…”

Bewildered, Erin’s eyes darted from Sam to Dean as they relayed hunters names and what favors were owed. “Can we pump the brakes here? What’s going on?” 

Dean sighed. She really was an idiot, her mind too clouded with regret and guilt to realize that not only had Crowley played her but that they were going to have to end the game, once and for all, and win her soul back. “It doesn’t matter how good an actress you are, E. He’s not going to trust anything you tell him. I doubt he has for a long while. And he’s not just going to hand over your soul cos we ask nice. The only thing he’d trade for your freedom is his own.”

“You mean…”

Sam nodded slowly, “We’ve got to trap him. We’ve done it before.” 

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?” Dean scowled, “So he’ll let you out of your deal.” 

“No…I didn’t tell you the truth so you’d try to save me. I thought you’d be angry.”

“You screwed up, E. That’s a given. You went behind our backs, lied, whatever,” Dean rolled his eyes, it was beyond the point he was trying to make. “But either of us would have done the same in your shoes. Hell, we’ve done worse. You were trying to save your sister and then your soul. How could I be mad at you?” 

“But, I could have-”

“Hey, you didn’t lie about the things that matter, alright?” His patience wearing thin. There were more important issues at hand than what _could_ have happened. “In the end, you tried to do what you thought was the right thing. So we’re gonna fix this. And I’m sorry, sister, but you’re just not gonna convince us to hate you. Besides, you seem to have that covered all by yourself.” 

Erin swallowed thickly, holding off more tears. “No,” she shook her head, defiance lacing her voice, “I’m not letting either of you do whatever it is that your thinking of doing. I made my bed, I’m the one that’s got to lie in it, and I’m not risking either of you or the rest of my family.” 

“No?” parroted Dean his brow practically reaching his hairline. Clearly she wasn’t afraid he was going to hurt her anymore if she was bold enough to contradict him. “So what’s your plan, huh? Run again? Wait for Crowley to catch up with you?”

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and found her fidgeting hands in her lap to be more interesting than Dean’s incredulous expression. 

Sam shifted in his seat, his back straight, lips set in a straight line when he answered for her. “No, she’s going to go to him. Give herself up.”

“Sacrifice yourself? That’s your big plan?”

“Not sacrificing myself, paying my debt.” Erin puffed out a breath, getting to her feet. “It’s the only way to keep everyone safe.”

“Do you really think I won’t actually lock you in the dungeon? To keep _you_ safe? I’ve done it before. Done it to Sam.” 

Erin remained quiet, she’d lied to them both enough to last a lifetime, but Dean wasn’t stupid enough to mistake her silence for compliance. He stood slowly, a menacing look pulling his brow high, a silent dare to test him. 

“Dean,” she warned arms outstretched to hold him back as she began to retreat. 

He was too quick, or she didn’t take his threat seriously. Before she managed a second step, he used a vice like grip around her wrist to yank her toward him, bent at the waist, and hoisted her over his shoulder in the same movement. 

He strode off triumphantly toward the dungeon and she protested loudly, “Dean! Put me down before you drop me!” 

“You can play nice and help us do this, or you can wait in the bunker while we clean up this mess. Those are your choices, sweetheart.” 

He made it to the library steps before she answered, “Fine! Okay, okay. You win.” 

Dean stopped but didn’t put her down, “No bullshit?” 

“No bullshit,” she agreed before he set her on her feet. Erin sighed, defeated. “Okay, let’s make a plan.”

[Originally posted by undercoverrockstarjensen](https://tmblr.co/ZKSWQp2Y6Uqlh)

* * *

The place was quiet. The only thing Erin could hear was the pounding of her own heart as she walked through it. She had missed every inch of the Men of Letters bunker, from the ice cold floors to the cobwebs on the light fixtures that not even Sam could reach without a ladder. She’d missed the kitchen where she tried to make a habit of greeting the boys in the mornings with breakfast and smiles. Sam shuffling in to deliver a Good Morning kiss, Dean dragging himself, groggy and grumpy, to the buffet where coffee waited, strong and hot. Erin traced the polished finish across the tops of the library chairs, a sad set to her lips as she remembered the times she had spent in that room with the boys. She reminisced of chaste kisses shared with Sam and throwing things at Dean to bug him, inciting an argument just to break up the monotony of researching. She recalled the hours she’d spent sitting there alone, restless and anxious, waiting for the boys to return home. Erin looked over at the war room and saw its tabletop strewn with beer bottles and cards. She heard Dean gloating over his royal flush while Erin groaned and Sam laughed at the two of them. 

She hadn’t been there long, all things considered, but her life before the bunker, before Sam, seemed pale and distant. It was as if she hadn’t begun to live until she had arrived, and now that she was leaving, it felt a bit like dying. Her last exit had been too rushed for this reflection, but she couldn’t rip the band-aid off all at once this time. Things could never be the way they had been. That chapter of her life was over, and as she climbed the stairs, she closed the book, determined to leave those ghosts behind her. 

Erin peered through the open windows of her car, checking to make sure everything was in order before she left the bunker. It was still in Sam’s name–well, one of them–but it was, and had always been, Erin’s car. She loved it, even though it was small and a little dinged up. The lining was starting to sag, which was inconvenient. She scowled at it but couldn’t be bothered at this point. Then her eyes went to the stains on the vinyl seats, but they were subtle. Almost unnoticeable. Her bags sat in the backseat where she’d left them before she’d been arrested. The taillight had been mended. The gas tank was full. She checked that the pistol she’d taken from the armory was loaded and the safety was on before she slipped it into the compartment in the bottom of the driver’s side door. Then, Erin took a steadying breath and climbed behind the wheel. 

She headed West though Lebanon, wondering how long it would take for Crowley to catch up with her. The boys had left an hour before to set in motion the plan they’d devised. She hoped they would be okay, that Crowley wouldn’t decide to visit them first. 

The road stretched out in front of her, and the flat Kansas plains streamed along to either side. The unchanging landscape distorted her perception of time, and she hardly felt its passage until the sun dipped low enough to shine in her eyes below her visor. It wasn’t until the last sliver of the fiery disc disappeared behind the horizon that Erin felt a shift in the air pressure in the close confines of the car and she caught the subtle whiff of sulfur. 

“Where are we running to this time, poppet?” came the low, smooth voice from her passenger seat. Erin barely flinched. “Back to Mummy and Daddy’s? And here I thought you didn’t want to involve them in all of this.”

“I’ve said my goodbyes to them already,” she replied. 

“Whatever for? Even if we revert to the original deal, you’ve still three more years, give or take. Or has the guilt just become too much for you?” Crowley asked, sounding almost sympathetic. “Plan to pack it in early? I wouldn’t recommend it, love. You’ve seen where you’re headed.” 

“Wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, no,” confessed Erin softly. 

“Which part? The early withdrawal, or the final destination?”

She flicked her eyes from the road to her unwanted but expected passenger, “Do I have a choice about that?”

“Perhaps,” he shrugged. “That depends on what you tell me next.” 

“What is it you want to hear?”

“Tell me we don’t _have_ to alter our arrangement. Tell me the boys are still blissfully ignorant. You’ve been smart enough to have kept them in the dark all this time, knowing what’s at stake. Surely you wouldn’t have blown all our years of hard work and mutual trust on a whim.” His pause was an invitation, and he stared at her keenly. Erin kept her face straight, eyes forward. Crowley could read people, the slightest twitch of her eye and he’d pick up on her lie. “So you experienced a moment of weakness,” he prompted when she remained silent, “just means you’re human, darling. It’s understandable–_forgivable_–so long as you kept those pretty lips sealed after they dragged you back.” 

No matter what she said now, he wasn’t likely to believe her, but he was giving her more pieces to play with, more rope to hang herself on.

“They think I got cold feet after…Sam proposed.” It wasn’t a complete lie, just not the whole truth. 

“So. Moose finally grew a pair. Congratulations,” he offered warmly, his smile too cartoonish to be sincere.

“I didn’t say I accepted.”

“Ah, so that’s why we’re an hour outside of Lebanon. Couldn’t break the truth but couldn’t seal the deal, either. How tragic. You realize, if you don’t stay, we don’t have an arrangement. I have to say I’m disappointed, Erin. I’ll miss our little chats.” 

She didn’t answer, and he seemed to grow frustrated by her refusal to play along. Crowley wasn’t done with his game. He shifted in his seat, the vinyl squeaking beneath him as he twisted to face her. He threw an arm across the back of her headrest and leaned closer. Erin glanced briefly at the diminishing space between them with a small scowl but returned her eyes immediately to the road.

“Sounds to me, though, as if all is not lost,” Crowley told her, his tone confidential. “After all, they bought you home. I’d be willing to bet they won’t be happy to find you’ve run again. If you turned the car around right now, I’d wager they’d welcome you back with open arms…assuming they even notice you’ve gone, seeing as they’re still out. If you leaned on the pedal a bit, you could be back at the bunker before they are,” he told her with a sly smile, simultaneously offering her an out and subtly letting her know he’s keeping tabs on the boys. “Pull over, poppet,” he cajoled like the snake oil salesman he was, “let’s see if those cold feet of yours can’t be warmed.”

Crowley seemed to take her silence for acquiescence and he smiled. He didn’t wait for her to follow his order, the steering wheel obeyed him despite her, and she let her shaking hands fall away from it. When the car pulled off the cracked concrete of the neglected stretch of rural highway and slowed to a stop on the asphalt strewn shoulder, Crowley pulled his phone from his jacket. Erin attempted to swallow her nerves as her car placed itself in park. While Crowley dialed, her hand crept between her seat and the door.

“Stand down, boys. The situation’s under control,” he said, hanging up without waiting for a reply. Crowley slipped his phone back into his breast pocket, turning back to Erin just in time to come face to face with the barrel of her pistol. 

Crowley’s eyebrows rose as if impressed by her moxie, and he loosed a short laugh, but his amusement was evanescent. He sighed and shook his head. “Really?” he smirked. “And here I was, willing to negotiate. Go on, poppet. Pull the trigger,” he dared her, “see how far it gets you.” 

Erin didn’t bother with banter. As Crowley’s smug smile twisted wider, her finger tightened on the trigger. The shot rang out, momentarily deafening them both. Crowley didn’t flinch even as a stain of blood blossomed from the small, new-made hole in his forehead. 

“You know, I had intended a nice cell for you. An eternity of purely psychological horrors. Now, though…” He shrugged, seeming disappointed but not otherwise bothered. Crowley locked eyes with Erin, and she held her breath as he snapped his fingers. 

Silence stretched tense between them as nothing continued to happen. The rivulet of blood trickling from Crowley’s wound was diverted through the wrinkle between his eyes when his brow furrowed in confusion. Crowley snapped again, and it was Erin’s turn to smirk.

“Bollocks,” he muttered. With a huff, Crowley scrambled to reach inside his jacket, but Erin redirected the pistol she still pointed to his chest, sending a second shot into Crowley’s heart via his breast pocket and, incidentally, through his iPhone. Crowley’s glare turned murderous, but he remained unmoving. There was no doubt in Erin’s mind he’d be actively strangling her if he was able. 

Erin finally expelled her held breath, her ears still ringing from two gunshots and the pounding of her heart. The sagging lining overhead had meant they'd had to draw the Devil's Trap on the seat, and when Crowley's pants smudged the ultraviolet ink, causing it to fail, she'd thought the jig was up . The devil’s trap bullets had been a flimsy plan B. She hadn’t entirely expected to be allowed to get a shot off.

While Erin tentatively allowed herself to relax, lowering her gun, Crowley seemed to be quickly coming to terms with his predicament. His glare shifted from her to the hole blown in his suit jacket. “Really, Erin,” he scolded sharply. “This is Armani!”

His venom was already mellowing into peevishness. Erin released a short laugh, as much from relief and her jangled nerves as from actual amusement, and Crowley shot her a grumpy look. “Sorry,” she shrugged, not insincerely, while pulling out her phone to dial Sam.

[Originally posted by crowleysfavouritedemon](https://tmblr.co/Z1aT5d2TFAg_t)

* * *

Sam’s leg bounced of its own volition, his foot thumping loudly in the footwell of the Impala, the growl of the engine not quite enough to drown out his deep breaths or incessant fidgeting. “This is a good plan,” Dean assured him from behind the wheel. 

Sam scoffed, chewing the skin around his thumb nail that was taut from the tight grip around his cellphone. “We’re driving around aimlessly like idiots, playing decoy, while E traps the King of Hell, _alone_. Remind me what’s _good_ about that?” 

“It’s good cos it’s working, Sammy.” Dean checked the rearview mirror to make sure they still had their tail. 

Dean was right. If they had a demon tail, it meant Crowley had gone to Erin. Though, that wasn’t a comfort. There were a million and one ways it could go wrong. Sam had just gotten her back, and now he might very well lose her, for good this time. They hadn’t even talked about _them_, there hadn’t been time. What if this ‘good’ plan didn’t work out? What if Crowley decided he wasn’t in a talkative mood, decided to take reinforcements in the shape of a Hellhound? What if one of the traps failed? What if he simply stood by the side of the road, and with a twitch of his fingers, made her car careen into a tree? 

Erin’s half smile flashed in his mind, her words ringing true but doing as little now to ease his apprehension as they had when she spoke them hours ago. “_Sam if you two insist on saving me, then I’m the one that has to do this. I refuse to let you possibly be hurt for my mistake. Crowley won’t risk coming to you two, anyways. He’ll come to me and he’ll ask questions, he’ll need to know what you know.” _

She’d reached out to lay a reassuring hand on his arm. He’d wanted her to, craved it. He’d craved it so badly, he near gasped with the longing, and the sound stopped her advance. She pulled her hand back before making contact and smiled apologetically at him. She didn’t back away when he took a step toward her with the intention of making the connection she had pulled away from, though. His stomach flipped with anticipation, just before Dean burst into the garage, clapping his hands excitedly, and the moment was lost. 

In the end, he had only told her to be careful. She’d averted her gaze, and it might have been his insecurities fueling his imagination, but he thought he had caught something in her eyes before they fell away from his and to the floor. What if that something had been more than just shame? Erin hated what she had done, anyone could see it. Even Dean had commented on it, and he was the King of Self-Loathing. Now that she was beyond his reach, Sam couldn’t help questioning her motives for going alone. Maybe she had only agreed so she could play out her original plan of surrendering herself to Crowley. 

He should have hugged her. He should have kissed her. He should have told her he loved her. He should have…

“She should’ve called by now,” fretted Sam, checking his cellphone again. 

He felt like he was losing his mind. Not knowing where she was for months had been unbearable, or so he had thought. This was worse. _Knowing_ she was with Crowley, wise to the fact the smarmy bastard was probably watering the seeds of guilt in her mind, or else was threatening her soul, was agonizing. He felt like a landmine, ready to blow at the slightest bit of pressure.

“She’s going to be okay,” said Dean, though he didn’t sound all that convinced either. “You know Crowley. Why use three words when you can use three hundred? He’s probably just chewing her ear off.”

“Or a Hellhound is.” 

“Dude,” Dean scolded. They were silent for a while. Sam continued to gnaw his fingers, Dean kept an eye on their guest. “Y’know, not to be a dick or anything,” Dean began with an amused smirk, and Sam winced, because that was likely exactly what he’d end up being, “but you do realize what all this means, right? Erin’s deal?”

Sam frowned, certain he wouldn’t like where his brother was heading.

“She totally kissed Crowley,” Dean shuddered. “_Twice_,” he added with a gag. 

Sam glared at his brother, but his ringing phone saved him from having to dignify that with a response. Before his ringtone even had an opportunity to finish, Sam answered, “Erin, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” she replied, a smile creeping into her voice. “I’ve got him.”

* * *

Getting the incapacitated King of Hell to the bunker had proved to be the easiest part of the plan. Persuading Crowley that the sole cost of his freedom was to terminate Erin’s contract had proved to be both time consuming and frustrating.

It was amply clear that Crowley was enjoying the process. He was being inconvenienced, but according to him, he had literally all the time in the world, and Erin had only a few years. What was it to him to wait those out in the Winchesters’ dungeon? They’d have to sweeten the pot if they wanted her free and him gone. 

Sam gradually began to lose patience with Crowley’s subtle insinuations that Erin had been an eager participant in the plan. The demon was merely trying to goad him, and it was working, not because Sam believed him but because he was angered by the slander. His vehement defense of her virtue wearied Erin. She hardly felt worthy of Sam’s faith in her. She slipped out of the dungeon when her guilt just became too much, and Sam was quick to follow. 

He found her in the library. Eyes closed, Erin threw back a double shot of amber liquid. Sam watched as she breathed through the burn. She waited until it eased to open her eyes, meeting his where he stood pressed against the wall, staring back at her. 

His posture was artificially relaxed, but he couldn’t hide his concern entirely. It was evident in his creased forehead and the tone of his voice. “You okay?” 

She poured another drink, her tight smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Just tired, y’know,” she told him with a deep sigh. 

“It’s been a long day,” he agreed taking the drink she offered him.

Erin chuckled, but there was no humour in it. “It’s been a long few months.”

“Crowley will give us what we want. He just likes the game, playing hard to get,” Sam sounded positive as he followed her and sat at the table.

She swirled the alcohol in her glass and nodded. “The end is in sight,” she agreed, bringing her drink to her pursed lips.

“Speaking of the end,” Sam began hesitantly. He waited until her eyes met his before he continued, “have you thought about what you want to do when it’s over?” 

Her brow knitted together and her eyes searched his, unsure exactly what he was asking. Sam seemed at a loss, anxious and uncertain. Back in Sioux Falls, she had managed to convince him that their relationship was over…before she had stopped him and called him back. She had wondered to herself more than once since whether it had been the right thing to do. She knew he wanted her to stay, but Erin wasn’t sure yet that she should. She wanted to, but it didn’t seem fair somehow. 

Sam sucked in a steadying breath and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his eyes on the floor. “Does the end of your deal mean the end of everything? You and me? Us?”

Erin was thankful for Sam’s reluctance to raise his eyes from the floor to meet hers, fearful of the expression he would find on her face. Pity because yes, the end of her deal meant the end of them, and she felt immeasurable sorrow. Or anguish because her guilt was so ingrained she couldn’t forgive herself or allow him to love her. 

She didn’t get a chance to answer, as Dean called from the corridor, “Guys! His majesty has requested an audience. Might as well get in here and see what bullshit he’s got lined up this time.” Dean’s weary sigh carried all the way down the hall. 

Sam heaved a sigh of his own and climbed to his feet, seeming thankful for the interruption. Perhaps he’d decided he wasn’t ready to hear her answer. Erin called his name as he took a step way, “Sam…” 

He stopped and turned to face her, flashing a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. We don’t need to talk about it right now. Let’s focus on one thing at a time, huh? Get Crowley out of here, then we can work things out, okay?” 

She nodded her agreement and rose to her feet to follow a few steps behind him.

* * *

“Sorry to interrupt your makeout session, you lovebirds,” Crowley jested as Sam and Erin shuffled back into the dungeon. Sam glared at him but declined to respond, and Crowley was disappointed. The boys weren’t nearly as much fun as they used to be. Squirrel had only punched him once since they’d arrived. Pathetic show, really.

“You should be thanking me!” Crowley grumbled, only half sincerely. “After all, I introduced the two of you. If it weren’t for me, you’d never have met your lovely betrothed.” He inclined his head toward Erin, a smug grin on his lips making him look as if he were about to flick his tongue out like a snake. Sam’s inability to look Crowley in the eye did not go unnoticed. “Oh my apologizes, have the two of you been unable to work out all the _kinks_? Or can you not decide on a venue?” He’d hit a nerve, obviously. His eyes shot from Sam to Erin, watching their reactions closely. Now he was getting somewhere. “I have a room you could use. It may be a little on the warm side, but it’s been reserved for Erin for a _long _time.”

It was Dean who responded. Without a word, he stepped up and threw a punch that would have knocked Crowley flat if he hadn’t been bound to his chair. _That_ was more like it, Crowley thought. As he licked the blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes rose to Erin. Despite that they were split and bleeding, his lips twisted into a lecherous smirk. 

Erin only scowled at him, and Sam stepped between them to shield her. Crowley scoffed. Even after learning she had used Sam, the big buffoon still wanted to protect her. It was predictable but heartwarming in a nauseating sort of way. 

“Your plan failed. We’ve seen behind the curtain,” Dean reminded him, “she’s no good to you now.” 

“And what, pray tell, does that have to do with anything?” Crowley drawled, but his heart was not in it. He’d wasted a few hours of their time, he’d enjoyed pushing their buttons, but he had better things to do. He’d never really expected to have an opportunity to play the Erin card anyway. The arrangement had been insurance, yes, but mostly diversion. And it had been fun, but Crowley wasn’t particularly invested in the scheme. She’d grown on him over the years, the poor naive thing, lying to his face. Watching her squirm had been more than half the point and a lovely occasional pastime, but holding on to her soul was not worth making worse enemies of the Winchesters. Hell. Letting her off the hook might even win him brownie points. Crowley felt he’d always known the whole affair would end just as it had. The only thing that really upset him was the hole in one of his favorite suits. 

“Erin, darling, tell you what,” he began. Sam reached an arm back toward her, still glaring at Crowley, but Erin gently lowered it and stepped around Sam to stand in front of Crowley. The boys flanked her, ready to step in if necessary, and Crowley rolled his eyes. Everyone was being so bloody dramatic. 

“We had fun, didn’t we, poppet?” he asked, sighing when she gave no response. “How about a new deal, eh?”

“There aren’t going to be any more deals, Crowley,” Sam growled. 

“She’s a big girl, let her speak for herself.”

“I’m listening,” said Erin, cutting off what looked to be a blistering response from her pet Moose.

Crowley gave her a long look before continuing, his wheels spinning. His relationship with the Winchesters had changed drastically since he’d first tasked the lovely Ms. Best with getting in close to them. Not that his intentions had been particularly malicious even at the time, he’d merely seen an opportunity to get ahead of the game. After the success of his gamble with the charming Sheriff Mills, Crowley thought it’d be convenient to have a ready hostage on hand for any future, hypothetical clashes of wills. Now, though, Crowley really thought he and the Winchester brothers were what one might tentatively consider friends. It was an unconventional relationship, granted, but Crowley had every hope they’d come around sooner rather than later. After all, he didn’t even have a broken nose yet. Surely that was progress. 

“I might be inclined to release you from your contract–your freedom for my own–on one condition.”

The three shared a look, suspicious but tentatively hopeful. “And what condition is that?” Erin asked, voicing the question on behalf of all of them. 

“A wedding invitation.”

Dean rolled his eyes so hard, Crowley saw the black spots dance in his own vision, “Can we be serious here?”

“I’m dead serious, Squirrel,” he insisted with theatrical offense. “As matchmaker, I think I’ve every right. Just look at what a lovely couple they make. I did well, if I do say so myself.” 

Erin shifted uncomfortably, throwing a brief glance over her shoulder before answering in a pained voice, “There’s not going to be a wedding.”

The comment struck Sam like a blow to the chest, and his glare at Crowley faltered while he took a moment to staunch the wound. Crowley lifted an eyebrow reprovingly at Erin. Bloody hell. They were all stubborn as mules. No wonder they fell for her, she was practically a Winchester already. 

Dean marked his brother’s struggle as well but refrained from acting on it except to look away with a scowl to preserve Sam’s dignity. Apparently, it was up to Crowley to rescue the sad sod. 

“Pish tosh. Of course there’s going to be a wedding.” There fucking well better be, if Crowley was going to give up a hard earned soul. “After all, someone’s got to ensure the continuation of the Winchester line,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at Sam who winced. The comment reawakened his death glare, though, and Crowley chuckled. He wondered if the next generation would be as entertaining. “You’re legacies,” he went on. “Pedigree stock. And I mean properly extend it, the string of bastards Dean’s strewn across the country on hunting trips don’t count.” 

“What the fuck are you-?”

“What do you say, Erin?” Crowley asked, cutting off Dean’s spluttered protest. If they started in on that subject, they’d be there all night. “Simple enough, isn’t it? It’s not as if I’m asking for your first born,” he pointed out. “Let’s be reasonable. After all, I’ve got all the time in the world…” 

Erin crossed her arms and considered his proposal, chewing her lip all the while. “No strings attached?”

Crowley felt a grin stretch his whiskered lips. “No strings attached. _If_ there’s a wedding,” he reluctantly conceded, just to avoid any further argument, “you let me RSVP.” 

He was already envisioning the nursery suite he would be sending them as a wedding gift. He may or may not spell it for surveillance. He hadn’t decided yet.

[Originally posted by lucifersagents](https://tmblr.co/ZMY7jf2XvDg9H)

* * *

Erin ran her fingertips along the exposed concrete of the bunker as she slowly made her way through the hallway toward the garage. She was running again, but she no longer needed to make haste. The truth was out. 

Erin was exhausted. She couldn’t find relief in the knowledge she no longer had to lie. She’d expected these emotions– fear, worry, despair, chest crushing guilt–she deserved all of it and more. What she hadn’t expected, what had her completely perplexed, was the boys’ understanding. More so Dean’s. She’d anticipated anger, shouting, spiteful and stinging words, maybe a broken glass or two, but she hadn’t foreseen his tight embrace. 

Erin had fought with herself, gone back and forth with the decision to stay or leave. It killed her to let Sam go. She didn’t want to throw away the love they had created. She’d saved her sister’s life, and she’d do it again. She couldn’t regret that decision. She did regret betraying the Winchesters. 

A part of Erin also regretted allowing Crowley to scare her back to Sam when she’d tried to leave the first time. She liked to think the tearing of her flesh as Hellhounds dragged her away or unending years of psychological torture at the hands of demons would have been preferable to the knowledge she had hurt Sam and Dean, though she knew that, once in hell, she’d have sung a different tune. Still, even though she’d been tricked and no harm had come of it all, she would never forgive herself.

Her obligation to Crowley was over, she was free to do as she pleased. Even as she headed toward the garage and an uncertain future, she didn’t know what that freedom entailed. Whatever that future included, she knew it would be bleak without Sam. 

Her step faltered seeing Dean sitting with his back leaning against the Impala. His head was tipped forward, his eyes closed, lips parted as he snoozed. The heavy door to the garage closing behind her startled him awake. Dean jumped, immediately on guard, and scanned his surroundings. 

“Running away again?” he said when his eyes landed on Erin and he realized there was no immediate threat. She remained still, waiting for him to get to his feet. “I hope you weren’t thinking of stealing Baby.”

“I may be dumb, but I don’t _actually have_ a death wish,” she joked, giving him a tight smile.

The corner of his lips pulled up for a split second. She saw it before he ran a hand over his mouth to hide the smirk. Now that crisis had been averted, he allowed himself to be mad at her. She had disobeyed a fundamental rule in his book. She betrayed family, she broke Sam’s heart. Sam may have been the one who was more invested in her, but it didn’t mean Dean was any less hurt by her actions. 

“What’re you doing in here?”

“Sam, he figured you’d stick around for at least another day or so. Thought you’d talk it out. Or try to.” Dean shrugged. “Me…I’m not so trusting. You’re too much like me, sister. I knew you’d try to bail. Wanted to stop you before you got too far.” 

Erin didn’t have much to say to that, but Dean didn’t seem to expect her to respond anyway. He stretched his arms high above his head and yawned. “Let’s go get a drink.” 

It wasn’t a suggestion, and he didn’t wait for her to accept before making his way back toward the bunker, giving her a pat on the shoulder as he passed. After only a moment’s deliberation, Erin turned to follow. 

“So, where were you running to this time?” asked Dean, handing her a glass of whisky once in the library. His tone was curt. Though he’d anticipated it, she’d disappointed him in trying to leave. Or at least, trying to leave in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. 

“To my parents,” Erin answered as he took a seat in the chair beside her. “I left a note, telling you where I’d be if either of you wanted to talk.” 

“So that’s all he deserves? A note? ‘Thanks for saving my soul, Sam, see ya round’?”

Though Dean had played a role in the saving of said soul, he didn’t need goodbyes or apologizes, he’d deal with his feelings toward the situation in his own way. But Sam deserved better. 

“Come on, Dean, what can I _possibly_ say to him to make any of this better?” she sighed. Dean shook his head. She wasn’t getting off that easy. 

“How about giving him an opportunity to actually talk instead of running out on him again?” His voice was gruff, but he took a calming breath before continuing. “Listen, E, I know it’s not gonna be an easy conversation, but it’s the least you owe him. Now, I don’t know what conclusion the two of you will come to, and it’s not particularly my business. But it’s kind of my job to look out for my little brother. And to stop my pain in the ass little sister from doing something she’ll regret.” 

“I thought you_ just_ said it wasn’t your business.”

“Whether you two work it out isn’t. But I know you’d regret leaving here–again–without at least giving Sammy the chance he deserves to try and talk you out of it. I know you’ve got some stupid notion in your head that you’re protecting him by leaving, but he’s a big boy, E. You can’t make his decisions for him. And you’re free to make your own, but I have a feeling you don’t want to leave any more than he wants you to. ”

She hated when Dean was right. He had golden moments of clarity. She finished her drink, then stood to refill her glass to avoid looking at him. “I can’t ask him to forgive me. I won’t.”

“Why not?” 

Sam’s voice startled her so much, the glass decanter clinked against the metal tray as she put it back in its place. She stood frozen, knowing if she looked, he’d be staring at her with the expectant, puppy dog expression that she’d never been able to resist. 

“Afraid I will?”

“Sorry to rain on your pity parade, but I think he already has, sweetheart,” Dean whispered to her as he passed on his way out to leave the two of them alone. 

She stayed in place, still not quite prepared to face Sam, not ready to allow him to derail the guilt trip train her mind was currently traveling on at high speed. 

“So. You were running again, huh?” 

A chair scraped against the hardwood floor, and she sighed deeply because she knew from the sound _exactly_ which chair he was sitting in. It served as a reminder of another thing she would be leaving behind if she didn’t allow Sam in. 

“And I didn’t even propose this time.” 

Though his tone was playful, it hurt her, and she finally turned to face him. “Don’t do that. Please. Don’t try and make me feel better.”

“So tell me what I’m supposed to do then, E.” He was gentle and imploring, and it broke her heart. “I’m just as lost as you are here. I’m afraid I’m gonna say the wrong thing and you’re gonna run for the hills. Tell me,” he said, his voice wavering, “what to do with the memories we made.” 

Erin shook her head at him. “You’re supposed to be angry,” she told him, angry herself that he wasn’t. “You’re supposed to tell me I’m a monster, that you hate everything I’ve done…demon deals and running away and–_fuck_-coming back? You should despise me because the memories we made are tarnished.” Her voice shook, and she finished her drink and placed the glass back down, freeing her hand to press to her lips as if to hold her regret inside. 

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. Cause as hard as this probably is for you to comprehend, I don’t hate you, Erin. I don’t think you’re a monster, and I’m not angry. Because I know, despite what you did, you did it for the right reasons, and you tried to walk away. You tried to make it right in the only way you thought you could.” 

Erin kept her focus on the floor, her eyes glazed. 

“Actually, scrap that. I am mad.” 

Her eyes shot up. She was surprised by the admission, but also relieved. She deserved his anger and not his sympathy. 

“I’m mad because you put yourself in danger by leaving when you should have come to me for help.” 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, turning her back on him once again to pour another drink, “You’re impossible.” 

“Back at the station in Sioux Falls, you said if I found out what you’d done, I’d curse the day I met you. Well, now I know, and it doesn’t change the way I feel about you. And I’m sorry if that’s what you want, what you need, so you can hate yourself a little bit less, but the truth didn’t change anything. Not for me.”

She choose not to face him, or to respond. She sipped her drink with her back to him. But it didn’t take long for Sam’s patience to reach its limit. He rose to his feet and used a gentle hand on her elbow to turn her to face him. 

“Crowley may have forced you into my life,” he said, causing her eyes to fall away from his in shame, though that hadn’t been his intention, “but he didn’t force us to fall in love.” When she didn’t lift her head, he lifted it by the chin with his fingertips until she met his eyes again, “And you _do_ love me.”

Erin nodded slowly, her expression soft yet almost pleading, and though it hadn’t been a question she answered. “Yes,” she told him in an anguished whisper. “If you trust anything I ever said, you can trust that.”

He smiled, hope and belief reflected in his dimpled cheeks, “I do trust it, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t look as lost and scared as you do right now.” 

She scanned his face and saw his sincerity. It was that simple to him. Their love was real, regardless of how it happened, and that was what mattered most. She wanted to make it work, to mend the piece she had broken, whatever it took. But to do that, she’d have to make friends with the monsters in her head. Though, if she had Sam by her side, it wouldn’t take him long to quiet their insistence that she was unworthy of him.

“I don’t want this to be the end, E, and it doesn’t have to be. I love you, you love me, we can work out whatever else there is. But you need to…I _want_ you,” he corrected himself, “to stay so we can. Please.”

Erin was silent for a long moment, gazing at his imploring expression as though trying to resist it. “Okay,” she said finally, her voice small but resolute. 

“Okay?” Sam repeated, almost as if he hadn’t expected to prevail, or else he needed to be certain he’d heard her correctly before allowing himself to be relieved. 

She nodded, and Sam broke into a grateful smile, looking as though he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to laugh or cry. He chose instead to cup her face and kiss her as he’d been hungry to do since he had seen her in the cell in Sioux Falls. She raised to the tips of her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Sam was the one to pull away when he tasted her salty tears. He held her face in his hands and used the pad of his thumb to wipe away a stray drop. 

Erin smiled up at him, “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Made a deal with a demon?” he said, testing the waters. She groaned and tried to shove him away with her palm flat against his chest but he used the momentum to pull her closer. “Too soon?” asked Sam, a breath from reconnecting their lips. 

“Too soon,” she agreed firmly, though the severity in her look was insincere and she melted against him again when he pressed his lips to hers. The persistent and deafening voices of the monsters in her mind were already quieting with Sam’s tender kiss and tight embrace.


End file.
